When his look brushed up my body again, it lingered on my mouth. My belly swooped with heat.
He’s beguiling you, Lila.
“You are particularly delicious,” he murmured. One of his arms pressed against the column behind me, boxing me in.
Then, he wrapped his other hand around the back of my neck. Delicious warmth spilled through me at his touch. Heat pooled between my thighs, and a need was building in me.
He leaned in closer, and along with the musk, I breathed in the scent of jasmine. I licked my lower lip, and his eyes caught the movement, pupils dilating.
When his lips pressed against mine—the touch light—molten heat rushed, making me ache for him. He’d hardly touched me at all, and already I knew it was magic, but the lust was real all the same. I wanted to pull off my dress, wanted him to take me hard against the column.
My mouth opened to his. His kiss deepened, tongue brushing against mine. His body pressed against me. One of his hands was moving down my side. The light touch was sexual torture over the soft material of my gown, and I needed it off, my breasts straining for him.
It wasn’t until I felt that cold castle air on my bare thighs that my senses started to sharpen again, the haze of lust clearing. Sourial had lifted the hem of my dress, and already his fingertips were finding their way to my knickers.
With an iron force of will, I pulled away from the kiss, and pressed my hands against his bare, steely chest. I pushed him away. “Just a kiss.” I struggled to catch my breath.
His eyelids were lowered, irises dark, like he’d been drugged. But he took a step away from me.
“You owe me an answer,” I said.
His chest was rising and falling faster than it should, his eyes blazing with a dark heat. “You wanted to know why the count chose you? It’s because he sees visions in his dreams. And in his dreams he saw the music hall where he was supposed to find you. He heard the name Zahra. Can’t say that I’m disappointed with his dreams in this case. I think you and I could have fun together.”
“Is he Samael?” I asked. “Is he the one ripping out lungs?”
“You got one answer to your one question. Unless you want another kiss?”
I licked my lips. But the sensation had been too strong, too dangerous. My legs still felt weak. If I let myself sink into his sexual spell, I’d lose my mind.
“That was enough.”
And with that, Sourial turned and sauntered out the door.
My body still ached for him, but I tried to push the thought out of my mind.
I crossed to the windows, examining them to see if any of them opened. The windows would be my conduit to Ludd, the crow. And Ludd was my conduit to the outside world.
On either side of the towering stained glass, I found smaller windows with latches. I unhooked one of them, then leaned out the window. Finn had taught me how to call for Ludd, using clicks and coos.
I called quietly into the skies, hoping I might get reassuring news already. When I saw Ludd fluttering closer, a rolled note in his feet, my heart sped up. He landed on the windowsill and dropped the note on the ledge. I smiled at him, petting his head a little, and he flew off.
When I unrolled the little scroll, I found drawings from Finn, signed with a raven symbol on the bottom.
But it wasn’t something reassuring, as I’d hoped.
He’d drawn three pictures—an hourglass running out of time, a dead raven with blood coming from his neck, and an angel, holding a sword, his face contorted with fury.
The images were beautifully rendered, frighteningly realistic.
It didn’t take me long to work out what the meaning was. I didn’t have long until the count and his army started slaughtering all the Albians, one by one.
Just as the writing on the wall had said—time was up.
Best get ready for my evening with the count, then. I’d find out whatever information I could, if it could stop him from murdering everyone. I just had to make sure that the angels didn’t catch on to my betrayal.
14
Lila
I’d never been on a train before, and I felt completely exhilarated. We were in a little carriage with velvet seats—the count’s personal train.
I stole a glance at the count, sitting across from me. Despite the fact that we had less than a foot of room between us, he was ignoring me completely, gray eyes staring out the window from under his cloak. He looked too large for the space.
The train was moving along slowly, the sun setting outside and staining the sky with vibrant hues of plum and strawberry. From the elevated tracks, I had a view of the meandering Dovren streets below, the steep peaked roofs, the chimneys jutting out, and windows that glowed faintly in the twilight. As the train rolled by, I could see that parts of Dovren were so different to where I’d grown up. Some of the homes even had gardens with fruit trees. Policemen patrolled the streets, dressed in their black clothes. Keeping things safe. Keeping people like me away.
To the left, the Dark River wended through the city like the back of a serpent. Brick warehouses rose up on the south side of it.
I’d dressed myself in a sedate gown of gray silk, and no jewelry. I wore a cape of a slightly darker gray, and the softest wool, around my shoulders.
In this small space, it was hard not to feel his magic wafting off him—an aphrodisiac spell that snaked under my silk gown.
A waiter carrying a tray knocked on our carriage door, and the count nodded him in. The man held out a tray with two cocktails. I took one—why not? But the count simply waved it away. Clearly, he loathed fun.
I took a sip of the drink, finding that it tasted of lime and champagne, and glittered with little gold flakes.
“What else can you tell me about tonight?” I asked. “Who is throwing this party? It’s a bit early for a party, isn’t it?” It was only seven.
“Lord Armaros. He comes from Clovia. His many wives will be at the party, and he likes his celebrations to go on for as long as possible.”
I frowned. “I didn’t know Clovians were allowed to have more than one wife.”
“We aren’t typical Clovians.”
You don’t say. “Care to elaborate?” I asked.
“No.”
“Is Sourial married?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking about him?” A blade of steel undercut in his tone.
“Just making conversation.”
“Sourial and I are unusual among our kind. We have no wives.”
“Will he be at the party, too?”
“Making conversation again, are you?” He murmured.
“Oh yes. My people call it chit-chatting.”
“It’s a terrible habit.”
“Some day, Count Saklas, you are going to have fun. And it is going to blow your mind.”
“I’d rather keep my mind intact.”
“What exactly happened to the Albian royal family?” I asked.
He frowned, looking at me like I was mad. “I killed them, of course. They would not relinquish their claims to the throne.”
My chest tightened. “But, all of them? Even the children?”
“They were hardly children. Twenty years old, at least.”
“And what about their cousins? The dukes, the duchesses? The viscounts? I don’t know the bloody titles. But they’re all dead?”